


Intel

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hux Backstory, Implied/Referenced Torture, Interrogation, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: TLJ ended differently. The Resistance is shattered, Poe is captured, and Hux stops by to visit him in Interrogation.





	Intel

“What do you know of my mother?” Hux asks quietly, the flame of his sparker shielded by a cupped hand. The fire illuminates the cut splitting his lower lip.

         “I’m sorry?” the terrorist responds, still wriggling in the interrogation chair.

         “In your earlier communiqué, you mentioned that you had some information about my mother. I’d like to take this opportunity to hear what you know.”

         An eyebrow arched, the man cocks his head as best he can in his restrained position, and answers, “Y’know, just the usual.”

         “Ah, so it was simply an insulting joke?”

         “Well. Yeah.” He sounds genuinely surprised by the question.

         Hux exhales slowly, sending smoke curling from between his thin lips. “Still, I’d like to hear your thoughts. You were likely about to imply that she was a whore.”

         “At the time, you bet. But I’m sure she was a classy sort. Dinner parties. Champagne. Cocktail dresses. All the usual post-Imperial high-class rigamarole. Had to be, married to your dad and all.”

         “Oh. So you don’t know?”

         “Know what?”

         “Maratelle Hux was not my mother.” Leaning against the table holding an array of unpleasant instruments, he waves his hand, drawing a vague shape in the air with the ember of his cigarra. “That’s right, I’m a bastard.” After several beats, he stands once more and bends down, face nearly against Poe’s. “Go on and call my mother a whore,” he suggests grimly. “Who else would have sex with Brendol Hux?”

         The prisoner makes an effort to shrug. “Everyone’s got their type. Besides, he was pretty a pretty big deal in your circle, right? Plenty of chicks dig power. I mean, I dig powerful chicks.”

         Hux rolls his eyes and backs off. Turning away from the man, he takes a few pulls from his cigarra before speaking again. “She was a member of the household staff. A kitchen girl. Sixteen standard years old.” He stubs the smoke out, crushing the filter into the ashtray. “He raped her. Repeatedly.” He doesn’t turn back; he isn’t ready to see the look on the pilot’s face. “When he found out about the pregnancy, he demanded she end it. When she refused, he turned her out.” Hux lights another cigarra. “He came to fetch me when I was eight. By that point, Maratelle had failed, time and again, to become pregnant herself. Brendol ripped me, screaming and bawling, out of my mother’s arms. When she barreled after him, he drew his side-arm and shot her point blank in the head.” Now he begins to slowly turn around and levels a stare at his captive’s eyes. “Brendol belted me each time I showed my ignorance of social graces and withheld meals whenever I mentioned her.” Putting a hand to his forehead, he murmurs, “I thought perhaps you actually had some information. Once again, I’ve been foolish when it comes to my mother.”

         The silence that follows is physically painful for both men present. Then, eyes wide and mouth grim, the pilot stumbles through a series of words. “I’m—shit. I mean, you’re still a complete asshole, but—”

         “Don’t you _dare_ pity me. That’s not what I want. All I request is that you don’t think poorly of her, despite having me for a son. I was a different person before the age of eight.”

         “Didn’t you have him killed? Your father?”

         Hux raises an eyebrow and reaches for another cigarra. Once it’s lit, he paces the room with his characteristically long strides. It only takes four steps to reach the far wall. From there, he answers. “Rumour has it that I hired an assassin to dispatch him. The truth is, I paid him a visit myself. I had to be sure he understood why he was dying. That he was paying for every time he forced himself on my mother. Every stripe of his belt. Every night I spent with an empty stomach and an intensifying hatred of him. All of it.”

         The door chimes and Hux opens it remotely. The imprisoned man stiffens in his chair as Lord Ren enters.

         “I sensed your sorrow,” he announces to the general.

         Hux waves his concern away, but when the knight approaches him and puts a hand on the small of his back, Hux’s shoulders heave.

         Ren asks, “You were seeking information about her.”

         The general nods once and lets out a gasp.

         “I can take it from here, love. You head home and rest up, alright?” With that, he brushes a strand of hair from Hux’s forehead and kisses the spot where it was.

         Hux nods again, wipes his eyes on the back of a gloved hand, and gathers his coat from the chair.

         “I’ll see you in a few hours. We’ll have a quiet dinner then.”

         Giving the knight a twitch of a smile, Hux exits the interrogation room, leaving Poe alone with Kylo Ren.

         “Is it true?” the pilot asks.

         “About Hux’s mother? Yes.”

         With a frown, Poe dares to ask another question. “What was her name?”

         “He doesn’t know.” Straightening up to his full height, the knight changes the subject. “Hux must not expect you to survive long, otherwise he never would’ve shared his background. I think you might last a week. We’ll see. But enough speculation: we’d better get started.”

         Ren reaches out his hand.


End file.
